


Element

by Apetslife



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin really misses Lance while he's away.  And not just because he's the most fun at parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Element

Justin missed Lance.

Everyone knew that, even JC who wasn't talking to him right then. Joey knew, because Justin called him a lot to coo to Briahna, but usually ended up talking to Joey more, asking careful questions about travel and schedules that fooled no one. Especially not Joey, who was smart. Joey always told him about Lance's most recent phone call, because Lance called Joey every day. Joey was Lance's best friend. Justin wasn't jealous, not really, but he wished Lance would call *him* more.

Chris knew, because Justin talked to Chris like Lance talked to Joey. Even when Chris was in the Bahamas or Toronto or back home in Florida, he always answered his phone when Justin called, and Justin called a lot. Chris knew less about what Lance was doing than Joey, but he knew more about how to make Justin feel better, so it was a good trade off. Also, Chris could tell Justin everything that JC knew, since Chris was still sleeping with JC, even though JC and Justin were fighting. Justin wasn't sure whether he should feel betrayed by that or not, but since it was Chris, and Chris had loved JC forever, he decided not to bother.

Justin figured JC had to know, if Chris told him half as much about Justin as he told Justin about JC.

Lance was always breezy on the phone. Justin had never thought of Lance as a particulary breezy type of person, but it was the only word he could think of to describe Lance's relentless cheer and up-beat-ness. Even after the announcement that Lance wasn't going to space, when Justin tried his cell number for three hours before getting through, he was chipper.

"So you're not going?" If Justin didn't break in, Lance could make small talk all day. That was maybe a little blunt, though, because Lance paused a whole long moment and there was an edge to his voice when he spoke again.

"Looks like not this time. I'm sure I'll make the next one, though."

"But that's a while away, right? Years. So you'll be coming home soon?" Justin kept his voice elaborately casual.

"Oh, you haven't talked to Joe, I guess. Me and Freddie are staying here for a while, I'm gonna keep up with the training, get some more stuff under my belt. It'll make things a lot easier next time." Lance sounded so blase about it. Justin hoped he couldn't hear his teeth grinding.

"So Freddie's still..."

Lance sighed patiently. "Yes, Justin, Freddie's still here. Now I've gotta go, I've got a thing, and about a thousand calls to return. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Later, Lance." Justin just looked at the phone for a few moments after hearing the dial tone. That hadn't gone even a little bit like he'd hoped. He hadn't gotten to tell Lance that he missed him.

***

It wasn't just that Justin missed clubbing with Lance, though he did. No one sprayed whipped cream on strippers like Lance. Lance really knew how to party, stuffing bills in g-strings, buying the whole bar a drink, taking over VIP like a force of nature.

Beyond that, though, beyond the fun stuff, Lance was amazing at industry functions. Justin was on his own now, and he found himself having trouble figuring out who he needed to take seriously. He was afraid of blowing the wrong person off, so he spent time with everyone, giving a little piece of himself to each, making sure everyone left with a good Justin Timberlake story. It was wearing him to the bone.

It led to things like him having a different stranger producing every track on his album.

Lance used to like standing at his elbow at these things. He'd murmur stories in Justin's ear, informing him that this one had been robbed last week by a Hollywood Boulevard hooker, that that one had just shown her face after having some fairly serious lipo done. He kept Justin from getting too caught up in the image. Lance could deflate someone faster than anyone Justin had ever known. Justin tended to take them at face value.

***

Chris came to visit, because JC wouldn't and Joey was busy and that pretty much left Chris. Justin swallowed his cynicism and picked him up at the airport; literally, it turned out, though Chris shrieked and flailed to be put down. Justin slapped his ass sharply to get him to shut up, safe behind the bland bulk of his security.

"Don't you ever do that again!" Chris was steaming; part real indignation, part reluctant amusement. Justin shrugged and dropped him to the hood of his car.

"Oh, you brat." Chris rolled away, glaring. "You'll get yours, mark my words. One of these days. *POW*, right in the kisser."

"Sure, old dude." Justin grinned at him, and keyed open the Benz. "C'mon. I wanna show you my house."

"I dunno, J. Am I gonna have to step over desperate starlets in your foyer? Pry wannabe singers off your door? Is Jennifer Love Hewitt staking out your hydrangea bushes?"

"Shut up," Justin scowled at him, peeling out of the parking lot. "You're not funny."

"Oh, yes I am," Chris assured him smugly. "So, how is Alyssa these days?"

***

Having Chris around was both good and bad. He kept Justin from stressing, because how could you stress when you were laughing all the time? But he wasn't a good hugger like Joey, he didn't--Justin was big enough to admit it--he didn't understand the music like JC, and he wasn't Lance. Plus, he'd taken to answering Justin's phone "Groupies-R-Us, may I help you?" and wouldn't stop, no matter how hard Justin pounded his head into the carpet.

"It was one time," he finally shouted, losing all patience. "I can't bring a girl home one time and then go to an arcade with her? God, I'm single, you know!"

"But Justin. Baby. It's Alyssa Milano. She used to be hot, but now? No. You can't be screwing people like that, it reflects badly on the rest of us. Also, don't you have a thing for Lance?"

"No," Justin sulked. "Lance sucks. He's fucking that loser anyway, in Russia."

"Yeah, Freddie's another bad decision. I'm starting to see the appeal of arranged marriages, because really, you children just can't be left alone." Chris shook his head sadly, and started for the kitchen to raid Justin's fridge again. "And for the last time, call JC. This whole thing is so stupid it's giving me migraines."

***

Justin called JC, and there was shouting and slammed down phones. It wasn't fair, JC was blaming him for shit that wasn't his fault. He called JC back to tell him so, and there was more shouting, but in the middle of it all JC said something that would make a fantastic hook for a new song. Justin made him shut up while he wrote it down, and JC started laughing at him, and they worked out the rest of the chorus. Things were pretty much okay with him and JC, after that.

Chris was relieved. "I can't have my best friend and my boyfriend bitchfighting, you know? It raises my blood pressure and I think it was turning me grey." Justin snorted and told him to stop hacking at his hair, maybe that would help.

After he left, the big house seemed even emptier. Justin considered adopting more dogs, but it seemed impractical, since he was travelling all over, doing promotions and publicity and shaking the hand of anyone who had ever even thought about making a record.

New York was great, because he could stay with Joey, and Joey was the best ever. He even threw Justin a party, and fed him shots, and listened to him talk about Lance without ever doing more than nodding sympathetically. When Justin puked in the cab, Joey handed the cabbie a $100 and didn't say a word about it in the morning.

Hangovers made Justin honest, though, and he picked at the bagel Joey toasted him and sipped at his Bloody Mary and sighed. "Is he happy?" He asked abruptly, and Joey gave him a puzzled look. "With the slimeball," he elaborated. "Is Lance happy with him?"

"Well." Joey slid to a seat at the table with him, and propped his chin in his hands. "Kinda, yeah. He's apparently good in bed, and he's nice to Lance, and he can follow him around where he goes."

Justin groaned. "But he's...such a *slimeball*," he said helplessly, unable to think of a better word for him.

"I know that, and you know that, and everyone knows that but Lance. Lance is just glad to have a boyfriend," Joey said sadly. Joey wanted them all to be happy.

"Lance could do much better."

"Yeah?" Joey glanced at him sharply, and poured him more water. "Maybe he doesn't know that."

***

Justin didn't call Lance again till he was back in LA. He didn't want to seem desperate or anything, and plus he was still trying to figure out what to say.

Lance was not breezy, though, when he finally called, and Justin totally lost his train of thought.

"Listen, if you called to bitch about Freddie, save your fucking breath, all right?" Lance was so hot when he swore. "I've had it with you guys and him. Leave us the hell alone."

Chris had obviously called. Chris hated Freddie even more than Justin did, which Justin kind of liked because it meant Chris could play the heavy, and Justin wouldn't get yelled at as much.

"No, dude, hey," he hastened to lie. "I wasn't gonna mention him at all. Just checking in. I miss you, you know? It's good to hear your voice."

The pause on the line was a long one. "Yeah?" Justin thought that Lance still felt a little uncertain about his place in the group, which was total bullshit, but that was Lance for you.

"Yeah. Things ain't the same without you here. I tried to throw a party, it was a disaster. And there are clubs out here that haven't felt the magic Bass touch." Justin let his voice drop to a wheedle. "Come back, Lance. Come stay with me a while, we'll hang out, I'll take you out. The clubs there can't be as good."

"Does the invitation include my *boyfriend*, Justin?" Lance snipped, and Justin winced.

"Uh, sure." Maybe Freddie could sleep in the pool house. He could be Justin's own Kato Kaelin, only less welcome.

"We're flying back next week anyway," Lance said, and he sounded tired for the first time. "I've done everything I can here. Maybe we'll take you up on that. Hey, can I meet Alyssa Milano?"

Justin threw his phone against the wall.

***

Lance was on his doorstep a week later when Justin got home from his run. There was a bodyguard leaning on what had to be a rental car, but no sign of Freddie.

Justin approached cautiously. He had no idea what was going on.

"Hey, Lance," he said tentatively, walking to his side and wiping his face with his shirt.

Lance stood and wrapped him in a hug, sweat and all, and Justin hugged him back automatically. Lance was shockingly thin.

"Dude. Come in. Get out of the heat." He led his strangely silent bandmate into the house, and pushed him down in the den. "Sit. Stay. I gotta shower, I'll be back in a minute."

It was the fastest shower of his life, but his mind was racing even faster. Lance didn't seem mad, or sick, or anything. Justin couldn't imagine what he was doing there.

By the time he walked back in, clean and dressed, Lance had found his beer and his television remote, and was comfortably established in Justin's favorite chair, staring at the tv intently.

"Hey, dawg." Justin fidgeted in the doorway. "You know I'm glad to see you, dude, but what's up? You didn't call or anything." Lance always called. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." Lance sounded exhausted, his accent more pronounced. "I dumped him, okay? And I don't want to talk about it."

Justin reeled a little. "Oooookay," he said carefully, moving a little closer. "No talking about it, but can I at least ask why?"

"He was taking videos. Of us. For future sale." Said flatly, with no emotion, and Justin blinked. "If you say 'I told you so' even once, I'll have you killed."

"Right." Justin sat gingerly at the couch, and stared at the tv too. He figured Lance couldn't tell that inside, he was singing.

***

Lance wasn't one to wallow, and within a day or two he'd stopped moping on the couch and had started interfering in Justin's life. Not that Justin minded, because as Lance was reorganizing his spice rack, he let fall little snippets like "it's for the best, Chris was gonna buy me a mail-order groom" and "he gave awful head anyway" and "god, what a slimeball." Really, Justin was just thrilled to pieces to have him there at all, and made secret excited phone calls to JC from under his covers at night when he was sure Lance was asleep. He was very glad he and JC were speaking again, because no one understood giddy enthusiasm like JC.

Also, JC didn't laugh at him like Chris did when he stole the phone, or shout at him to "just fuck him already, you pussy!"

It was almost like having a live-in boyfriend, except without the sex, because Lance ordered food and did laundry and had Justin's pool cleaned, and kept acquiring more and more clothes via some mysterious process that Justin couldn't fathom, because he never went out.

"You would not believe what people are wearing in Russia, Justin," he said very seriously one afternoon, when they were tanning by the pool and Justin was carefully not looking at Lance's very nice chest. "It was like a time warp back to the eighties. The really ugly part of the eighties. I don't know how I lasted as long as I did." He slid an admiring hand over his D&G swim trunks, and Justin almost bit off his tongue.

***

He'd dragged Lance to another Jive party, because Lance *had* to get out. Parties were Lance's natural element, and Justin had to get him back into it. Plus, Justin was selfish enough to want him there for moral support. Nick Carter was going to be there, and that always made things tense. Exes were such uncomfortable things to have around.

"Oh my." There it was, that sly knowing murmur from just behind and to his left. "I see Bill has upgraded his girlfriend again. What is this, version 21?" Justin hid his grin, and shook the hand of a very important producer whose girlfriend was, indeed, both new and very very young.

"No, no," Lance caught his arm as he stepped towards someone else, a guy wearing too many armbands and three hats, "he's on his way out, man."

"But he just started to get *in*," Justin protested, tugging against Lance's grip but not too hard.

"And next week no one'll remember his name." Lance nodded sagely. "Remember what I always tell you. If you have to spend time with people you hate, at least make sure they can do things for you."

"Right, right," Justin sighed, and settled back into his spot.

"I hear he doesn't bathe," Lance nodded at a director whose work was currently tearing up the TRL charts. "Ever. They had to fumigate the set and all the trailers. The singer lost fifteen pounds on that shoot, what with the dancing and not eating because of the stench. Jive's thinking of putting him on retainer." This time Justin couldn't swallow his laugh.

"I love you, man." Ah, shit. It had slipped out, and in the wrong place, the wrong time.

"Yeah, J, me too." Lance's voice was amused. "I missed you guys too, you know."

"No, I mean really." He turned, and Lance froze. Shit shit shit, he should really stop talking now. "Like, for real."

Lance stared at him, then his eyes went narrow. Lance's dangerous 'I can hide your body so the ghost of Hoffa couldn't find it' look.

"Fuck. You." Clear and deliberate, and the words dropped like stones into the pit of Justin's stomach. Lance turned and walked away.

***

By the time Justin crawled home, miserably drunk and drunkenly miserable, Lance was gone.

***

Chris yelled at him, JC was kind but firm, and Joey called in confusion to find out why Lance was staying with him all of a sudden, because didn't he have a house and anyway, wasn't he with Justin? Justin hung up on them all.

When Lance called, Justin didn't hang up, but that was more from the shock than anything else. Lance didn't shout at him either, just said hello and breathed at him for a few moments, then said "goddamnit" and hung up.

Justin was probably an idiot for reading as much hopeful positive shit into that as he did.

***

He took to sending flowers. Unsigned, but with little cards that said things like "I really meant it" and "Honest, I wasn't lying" and "Come on, Lance, turn your cell phone back on." None of them were returned, which he took as a hopeful sign, but Lance didn't call again, either.

"I don't know what his deal is," Joey said, clearly frustrated with the whole mess. Joey, legitimately, considered them all morons. He'd had to handcuff Chris and JC together, after all. Justin remembered it fondly. "He won't talk about it. He's being a total bitch, too. Don't say 'I told you so,' man, I'm serious. I think he's trying to have me killed."

Justin felt a little smug that Lance had warned him, and not Joey, and told Joey so, and then had to hold the phone away from his ear for a little while.

"I'm sending him back to you. I'm sick of his whining, and he's fucking with my rehearsal schedule. Some of us still have to work for a living, you know. And for god's sake, feed him up, boy's a stick."

He doubted even Joey's abilities to do so much, but he cleaned the house anyway.

***

This time, when Lance appeared, he marched right in the front door and slammed it behind him. Justin was up to his elbows in dishwater, but he ran to the front hall anyway, dripping everywhere.

Lance glared at him. Justin beamed back.

"This was not my choice, I'll have you know. Fucking Joey is holding my laptop hostage." He whipped out his cell phone. That was so sexy. "Joey. I'm here, bitch. Now send my laptop. Yeah." He held out the phone, and Justin obediently said hi on command. "See? I want it *messengered*, Joey. Put a person on a plane with my computer handcuffed to their fucking arm, and I want to see it in eight hours, max. No. No, I absolutely do not love you back."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Justin's wet arms started to itch, and he scratched one absently.

"Hey," he offered.

Lance rolled his eyes, and headed for the guest room.

***

Justin was camped out in the hall outside Lance's room. No sneaking out this time.

Lance had apparently missed his Armani suits. At least, he was talking to them in a tone of voice that was doing pleasant shivery things to Justin's insides.

"Hey Lance," he called, finally. He hated to silence that voice, but really, things were getting a little personal in there. "You want dinner?"

Silence from inside.

"I can order Thai," he offered.

Silence.

"From that place that uses all the coconut. And they serve the chicken *in* the pineapple?"

"Fine."

It was a victory, so Justin had to do the dance. The fact that Lance opened the door in the middle of it and stared at him like he'd lost his mind was merely incidental.

***

Lance petted and cooed at his laptop when it arrived, and carefully didn't look at Justin when he brought it back into the house and made no move to leave again. Justin breathed a huge sigh of relief.

He told Lance he loved him again that night over dinner, figuring that the direct approach was best. Lance stared at him, and shook his head.

"I don't believe you," he said evenly.

"I am not a liar!" Justin protested.

"Yeah, well, Freddie told me he loved me too. And look what that got me."

"Yeah, but think about it," Justin pointed out reasonably. "I don't need to make amateur porn videos of you to sell for buttloads of money. I already *have* buttloads of money."

"Wouldn't know it to look at your wardrobe," Lance muttered, but let it drop there.

Justin thought it was funny that none of them had ever worried about the tapes getting out. It was *Lance*. And Freddie was really, really dumb.

***

They kissed for the first time by the washing machine. Lance had made it work again, and Justin couldn't help it, he was just so gorgeous and competent and gorgeous and cool.

Miracle of miracles, Lance didn't hit him or yell at him or do anything but kiss him back, cool and composed, eyes open and sharp on Justin's face. Justin stepped back, confused. He was used to people closing their eyes and moaning, at this point.

Lance dropped his hands from Justin's upper arms, and turned back to the washer.

"That's it?" This was starting to get annoying.

"What, did you expect swooning? Declarations of undying love?" Lance raised a sardonic eyebrow, and Justin winced. "Justin, I've known you since you were fourteen. You're not that sexy."

"I am so." It wasn't arrogant to repeat what other people had told him.

"Justin!" Lance was laughing now, which was kind of insulting but still better than being smacked. "You are not! And I'm still recovering here, lay off. Respect the rebound."

Justin nodded. When Lance put it that way, he understood. He himself had been known to take time to get over relationships from time to time, though really, he didn't think Freddie was worth it. And he hoped Lance didn't start bringing starlets home. He'd heard Randy Harrison was sniffing around, and just...no.

***

It was kind of a pain having Lance live with him. He had to think about the clothes he put on in the mornings, even on his days off. He wanted to look good, after all. His favorite really-tight jeans were in high rotation.

It seemed to be working, though. At least when they were watching TV, Lance sat by his side, now. And Justin caught him watching him, not all the time but often enough, and Lance eyed him sideways when he commented on the shows, waiting for Justin's laugh. Justin always laughed. Lance was fucking funny.

They went out sometimes. One night they found themselves at a bar filled with drunken Angelene socialites, and Lance disappeared with a couple of hundred dollar bills, and came back with cans of whipped cream and a wicked, wicked grin.

"Just for you, J," he said, handing over a can and hopping up to the bar amid cheers and toasts. Justin joined him, laughing.

He really loved Lance.

***

They kissed for the second time beside the pool, Lance bracing hands against his chest and going up to his tiptoes, licking at Justin's mouth until he staggered back into the poolhouse wall and pulled Lance flush against his body. Lance kissed carefully and deliberately, not too wet and delicate catlike flickers of tongue, and it made Justin's head spin and his knees shake and his heart pound wildly.

When Lance stepped back he looked calm and composed, but Justin had known him for a long time and could see the little flush on his cheekbones, the way his eyes were more dark than green, and he licked his lips and smiled.

"Fucker," Lance said, affectionately, and Justin smiled wider.

"No video," Lance warned, and Justin clapped his hands with glee and dragged Lance up the stairs, laughing the whole way.

***

There had been a lot of people in Justin's bed, but he remembered the important ones with all five of his senses. Britney had been smooth as cream and sweet as a ripe peach. Nick was lush luxury under his hands, rich curves like liquid sunshine. Joey had leashed his power tightly, and tasted of cinnamon and cloves.

Lance was sleek and graceful, solid even in his new leanness, and Justin touched him all over, learning him like a new song. He needed to know all the places where Lance rose to his hand, where he shivered away; all the places where touching and licking and sucking brought him that wonderful low rumblemoan that was Justin's new favorite thing in life.

He was concentrating hard, licking the sweat from Lance's collarbone and stroking his cock and holding his hand, when Lance made him stop everything and rolled him over into a patch of sunshine. Justin blinked up at him, startled. Things had been going well, he'd thought.

"Every once in a while, your overachieving is a pain in my ass," Lance explained patiently, and slid down between his legs and sucked him in, shockingly sudden, and Justin arched his hips off the bed and shouted words he hadn't realized he'd known.

"Sometimes," he panted after, as Lance widened patently innocent green eyes at him and licked his lips smugly, "your self-satisfaction is a pain in mine." He flipped Lance over even as he started laughing, and straddled his hips, and rode him till he passed out, tan and languid and sweat-slick in the afternoon sun.

***

"I don't like one night stands," Justin said abruptly, breaking the awkard silence over breakfast. He made a face at his grapefruit.

"Liar." Lance went back to reading the comics.

"I don't like one night stands with *you*," Justin amended.

"Okay." Lance sipped his coffee. Justin's mouth watered.

"Okay? That's all you have to say?" Justin pounded the table for emphasis, and Lance looked at him evenly. But his eyes were shining.

"Yep."

"Well." Justin sat back. "Fine, then."

***

Justin had his sixth drink in hand and was feeling no pain. Chris was somewhere making a spectacle of himself with JC, who was looking particularly good tonight. Joey was playing up to Nick Carter, who was looking *fantastic* lately, and Justin wished him well. They were all together, finally, and a tight place inside him relaxed at the knowledge. Everything was going to be just fine.

"Well well." Lance purred, just behind him and to his left, nodding at a blond pop diva-ette. "*Some*one's had some work done."

Justin didn't even bother to try hiding his joy.

[end]


End file.
